


Powercut

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: What better time to snuggle than when the power conks out and there's nothing better to do?





	Powercut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MysteriousBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriousBean/gifts).

> **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy XV and all of its content is property of Square Enix.** I just like to play in the sandpit they've created for the fans.
> 
> Inspired by [this art](https://mysteriousbean5.tumblr.com/post/187718044606/cuddle-time) by MysteriousBean. Once again, I am blown away by your art, and rather tempted to browse all that you've shared with the fandom for further inspiration for fictober.

They’re not _entirely _caught off guard when the power goes out, not really. Not with Noctis able to dance flames over his fingertips, illuminating their path to the hallway and the cupboard crammed to bursting with spare blankets and unlit candles, and the pantry too, with its stock of non-perishables and bottled water. No Ebony, much to Prompto’s surprise, but maybe Ignis’s stash is located elsewhere, maybe in his quarters in the Citadel?

They’re still able to spill their textbooks over the coffee table, the silence between them comfortable and _easy_, broken only by the clicking of pens or scratch of nib on paper or the small _clacks_ of beads when Prompto’s lost in thought and twirling the breads round and round his wrist.

But it’s not _just_ the electricity out for the count, the heating conks, too, and eventually the air is too chilly for Prompto to ignore and no amount of layers can keep it from wrapping its fingers around his bones. He curls up in one of Noct’s hoodies anyway, grumbling even as Noctis scoots up next to him and bundles him into the sofa and spoons him, peppering kisses to the back of his neck.

“You’re like an ice cube.”

“Not my fault Shiva likes me.”

“But not as much as _I _do.”

“Hm.”

“Oh c’mon! What other boyfriend would keep you all warm and toasty during a powercut?”

“What boyfriend would suggest _study_ during a powercut? Iggy’s rubbing off on you, man.”

“You take that back!”

“Nuh-uh!”

Then he’s squawking, screeching, squirming around as if his life depends on it as Noctis burrows cold hands under the layers and dances fingers over his ribs and tummy until he’s near tears and begging for mercy.

Noctis makes up for the torment, though, when he tucks in against Prompto’s back again, humming quietly into his hair as magic comes awake around them in warmth he feels from his nose to the toes he presses to Noct’s foot in one last act of vengeance.

And that’s how Gladio finds them later, letting himself into the apartment when there’s no answer, quietly moving around the room to extinguish the candles and pick up the notebooks they’ve kicked off the table (or the sofa, in Prompto’s case, with the head of riotous blonde hair smooshed up against the cusions). He leaves a lamp on before he goes, and a note by their phones to remind Noctis to _eat something _with all the magic he’s putting out _in his sleep, _the nutcase.


End file.
